


"Nothing Is So Healing As The Human Touch" Or 5 Times Tony Allowed Human Contact And The One Time He Didn't

by Thementalistlover2013



Series: How To Whump Tony Stark (AKA: Anything & Everything Tony) [9]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Best Friends, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, But he hurts him instead because feelings, But snores loudly, Clint Barton & Tony Stark Friendship, Everybody Hugs, Everybody Lives, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Healing, Hurt Tony Stark, I wrote this in three hours, Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki also wants to be Tony's bff, Loki wants to be an avenger, Natasha Feels, Protective Clint, Protective Steve, Science Bros, Self-Sacrificing Tony Stark, Sexual Humor, Team Squish, Team as Family, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Team Are His Hug Dealers, Thor Is Not Stupid, Tony Angst, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony is my bb, Tony-centric, Torture, Touching, i will hurt him and i will fix him, pinky swear, understand this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:49:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6583840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thementalistlover2013/pseuds/Thementalistlover2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In hindsight, it started and ended with Clint, who seemed to have no personal boundaries whatsoever. </p><p>Or that time when Clint made sure there was no where else to sit during movie night in order to be Tony's big spoon. It all started to unravel here, really.</p><p>AKA: Tony isn't used to being touched, okay? Not by actual, living people, who, holy shit, live in his house now. </p><p>Luckily, he was born to adapt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let Me Be Your Big Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from quote by Bobby Fischer.
> 
> Hey guys, it's me again. I just wrote this, literally, just finished it; it wouldn't let me be. I decided that Tony needed to be squished and hugged and loved and spooned. So here you go.

1.

In hindsight, it started and ended with Clint, who seemed to have no personal boundaries whatsoever.

The Avengers had been watching a movie, their Friday night ritual, depending upon whether or not one of them were across the country or in medical dying, of course.

It'd taken two months for the team to even sit comfortably in the same room together, never mind sprawl among each other; but there they were, nearing the better part of three months, bodies relaxed and tangled on the many communal couches in the theater.

Tony had always set himself up on the solitary recliner in the corner, saying that his reactor was too bright and would make it difficult for them to watch the movie.

_"I'm a walking spot light, the glare will be annoying - I'll just sit here."_

But on this particular day, Clint had taken it upon himself to move the offending furniture, pressing it near the end of the couch as an extension; he crossed his ankles and propped them upwards on the chair, head pillowed on Natasha's thighs, her nails running their way through his hair. Tony, as usual, had come in fifteen minutes late, freshly showered and clad in pajamas (an oversized t-shirt that swallowed him whole and boxers).

The room was full, and Clint watched with deft eyes as Tony scanned the occupied furniture; the archer feared he might try to sneak out before anyone noticed him, just to avoid sitting near one of them, or making someone move (despite his asshole tendencies, Tony was very insecure and mindful when it came to other people's comfort - Clint had only thought to do the same, ergo, moving furniture).

Instead, Clint's plan had gone through, and Tony's eyes had landed on the extra space to his right. The blonde scooted over a bit, raising his eyebrows quietly. Natasha was watching out of the corner of her eye, intrigued by the scene playing before her; her fingers stilled in the archer's hair.

The anticipation was only palpable for the three that were paying attention.

Tony, after what seemed like forever, padded softly to the couch, looking down at Clint, struggle clear in his eyes. He was gnawing on his lip, so Clint took it upon himself to yank at the t-shirt around his thighs, pulling him near. Tony plopped onto the couch, awkwardly still as he stared straight at the ceiling, hands fiddling with each other. Clint ran a comforting hand down his back, motioning for him to turn.

"The movie's that way."

Tony swallowed hard, nodded once, and flipped over, allowing his back to face Clint. "Right." He murmured, curling into his classic fetal position, guarding the reactor unconsciously.

Clint propped himself up on his elbows, Natasha's fingers resuming their ministrations as soon as Tony had taken a long awaited breath. The archer slung an arm around the smaller man's thin waist, casual as ever as he laid his chin on Tony's shoulder to see the TV.

"You good?" Clint whispered softly, sending shivers down Tony's back. The brunette nodded once, closing his eyes as he relaxed into the touch, breaths deepening out.

"Y-yeah, I'm good. _Great_."

Clint only smirked as Tony leaned back into his chest, settling peacefully into the archer's hold.

 


	2. Feeling You Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Tony feat. Asgardian Mead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at all these tiny chapters. Awe. It's kind of refreshing tbh.

2.

"But, like, _how_?"

Tony's question was about as intelligent as it was going to get, and Thor couldn't help but chuckle at the tiny man.

"Asgardian Mead contains magic, in a way. It knows if you are worthy, and only then will it release it's full wrath upon you."

"But _how_ does a _beverage_ know if someone can handle their liquor?!"

"That is for me to know, and for you to drink." Thor rumbled out, nudging the tumbler towards Tony, grinning wide. The brunette closed his eyes, shaking his head, a slight smile on his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Listen, Fabio, I _can_ handle my liquor, and if this, _this drink,_ thinks that I _can_ , it may or may not fuck me six ways to Sunday. You feel me?"

Thor reached out a meaty hand, grasping at Tony's thinner bicep in a reassuring way. Tony looked at him in confusion, wide eyes bouncing between the drink and the god; he didn't pull away, so Thor moved closer, hugging him a bit to his chest.

"I assure you, Man of Iron, I am feeling you _quite_ well."

Tony sighed, shaking his head, he grabbed the tumbler in one quick movement, taking a swig of it.

"Hopefully I _won't_ feel this. Tonight _or_ tomorrow."

Thor's growing smirk wasn't the least bit reassuring.

 


	3. Confetti & Carbonate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dum-E, back at it again with the potassium carbonate.

3.

Bruce and Tony's friendship had escalated to another plane a mere three days after the Battle of Manhattan.

Swiping holograms back and forth wasn't considered human contact, but _hugging_ definitely was, _right?_ Bruce pondered over this, his arms holding onto Tony ( _Tony Fucking Stark_ , his mind supplied, the famous one, the one you have on a pedestal when it came to just about anything - personal health care exempt of course) just as tightly as the man in question was holding onto _him_.

_Green, radioactive rage monster, him._

There had been a new development, something with magnesium chloride and extracting drinkable water from the ocean, _whatever_. The point was, Tony Stark had asked _him_ to help with a new project, Bruce had solved it (meaning SI was going to manufacture water from the sea for drought stricken places), saving lives in the process, and all he could focus on was the _man clutching to him_.

Jumping like two teenage girls; is this really what _my_ life has come to?

Tony's face was bright, smile wide and unfiltered. They'd been jumping and hugging and shouting (well, _Tony_ was shouting - the Other Guy was grumbling fondly at him in the back of Bruce's head) for the past thirty seconds and it didn't look as though it was ever going to end.

Which, _wasn't_ an issue, either, because this was the first human contact they'd made, greetings not included. _This_ was friendship and trust and love, and both Bruce and the Other Guy could feel it; Tony wasn't afraid of him, Tony had instigated the contact, and he wasn't letting go.

Tony was happy and accepting and _fearless_.

Bruce, feeling the same way, feeling brave for the first time in forever, clutched on even tighter.

Tony smirked, lips inches away from each other; he stopped jumping to scream over the triumphant music Jarvis had put on (Bruce was surprised at the lack of confetti). "You're _amazing_ , Brucie. _All of you."_

The smaller man groped at Bruce's ass, winking seductively, but both of them knew what that really meant.

All _three_ of them knew what it meant.

Tony started hopping again, and Bruce didn't even have to warn his other half before he started hooting and hollering along.

Red and gold confetti started falling from a ceiling panel over their head, and they laughed as they suffocated in tiny flecks of colored paper; Dum-E was kind enough to douse them in potassium carbonate before said paper could become a fire hazard, of course. Only then, when they were too lubed up to hold onto each other, did they break apart.

Hours later when Bruce was picking crusty white specks off of his body, he'd filed it away as one of the best days of his life.

 


	4. Daddy's Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint goes on a mission. Clint doesn't come back. Then he does. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Natasha and Tony worry. Happy endings, as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your support! Here's the promised update. The chapters get a bit longer as we near the end, so be prepared for that. Also, chapter contains some sex jokes because Clint and Tony and surprisingly Thor.

4.

Clint (and in turn, Natasha, because they came as a package deal, take it or leave it) had quickly become one of Tony's best friends over the process of a year.

The two had a bond like no other, they were immature ( _constant_ sex jokes) and quirky (the most _disturbing_ hobbies, disgusting food combinations) and just plain _weird_ ; that made them inseparable, especially when things got rough.

The team had unconsciously relied upon them for comic relief.

And they could use some comedy now, especially with Clint halfway across the country, on a solo mission that even Natasha had deemed dangerous; he'd been across the pond for far too long, without any contact.

Tony was worried.

Natasha was worried too, but she'd assured the genius that this was how these things tended to happen; you _couldn't_ map it out, Clint was probably fine, taking his sweet time like the asshole that he was.

Friday night rolled around and Tony still hadn't gotten his big spoon back. He moved the recliner like Clint had done every week before, just in case the man showed up mid-movie, and had left extra space behind him for the archer.

The entire team had noticed how mopey Tony had gotten, how quiet and withdrawn he'd been; they hadn't said anything, hadn't tried to offer comfort, because that meant that it _wasn't_ just a mundane mission. Natasha knew exactly how he was feeling.

She sat where she always did, her lap empty where Clint's head would usually sit. Tony was curled up into a ball a foot away, one of Clint's hoodies dangling off of his thin frame, a pair of too long pajama pants covering his cold toes.

He looked like he was mourning; Natasha wasn't about to let that happen, let that become a reality.

"Tony?" She patted her lap, the brunette frowning heavily as he whispered.

"Is Clint back yet?"

Natasha shook her head.

"I'm _not_ taking his spot. He's coming back, Nat. _You_ said so."

The red head looked conflicted; she _knew_ he was coming back, when and in what condition were the questions, the variables of which she had, unfortunately, no control over. Tony was good at reading people though, and merely nodded once, worming his way up to her.

Natasha needed comfort, too.

"Just for tonight." He sighed, letting her nails rub at his head. Natasha nodded, humming a bit. Tony hugged at her waist, burying his face into her thigh.

"I know," She shushed, massaging the nape of his neck.

Two hours later the credits rolled. Tony had fallen asleep, along with Thor, who was snoring loudly. The rest of the remaining team (Bruce and Steve) made their way to their own beds, shooting her small smiles and comforting pats to the shoulder.

She sat in silence after that, reveling in the dim lights. Natasha felt like crying, but she wouldn't risk _anyone_ seeing her like that. Clint would be back and-

The door to the communal floor opened; Natasha could practically smell him as he inched into the room, leather permeating the air.

"Honeys? I'm-"

" _Home_." Natasha finished, grinning up at Clint, who stood over the two of them, face a little worn, body a bit bruised; over all he looked _okay_ , alive, which is the only thing that she could've wanted.

Clint kicked the bottom of the couch, Tony's eyes fluttering open. He moaned, burying himself further into Natasha and asking her the question that he'd been repeating for the past two weeks. "'S Clint back ye'?"

Natasha rubbed at his head, eyes sparkling; she was finally prepared to answer. "Why don't you look for yourself."

"Yeah," Clint voice broke in over the sound of Thor's snores, "Get out of my spot, _punk ass_."

Tony shot off of Natasha's lap, peeking from Clint's hoodie and into the archer's eyes. Clint held out his arms expectantly.

"It's me, the team orgy can now commence. Sorry for the hold up."

The smaller man didn't even snark back as he hopped onto the blonde, wrapping his legs around Clint's waist. The archer grinned at the genius' hoodie, toes digging into his back. Tony shoved his head into the crook of Clint's shoulder, squeezing him as tightly as he could, reactor pressing against the archer's sternum. Clint groaned a bit, body sore.

"S-sorry," Tony started, attempting to climb down the man. Clint shook his head, grinning brightly.

" _No_ , Tony. 'S cool." He held Tony in place with one large palm to his lower back, holding out another arm for Natasha. The redhead slipped close to the two, wrapping her arms around them; Tony allowed her to squeeze him, not minding a bit as he sighed in relief.

The three stood in silence, Thor's snores dying down as the god started to rouse.

"Clinton! You have arrived safely, I see. Now," Thor stood, peeling off the shirt he'd fallen asleep in. His voice lowered, rumbling provocatively. "What is it that I hear about team orgies?"

"Maybe when Clint isn't black and blue." Natasha murmured, shooting Thor a wink. The god grinned, coming near and wrapping his arms around all of them. Tony squeaked as he was shoved into the very center, butt pressed near Thor's groin.

"'Tis only a matter of time, then. Heal _quickly_ , Clinton."

The archer smirked, looking over the people surrounding him.

"Daddy's home."

Groans of distaste circled about the group; Thor looked as though he'd been presented with a challenge, and Tony could only squirm a bit as he got down, hoping that competition didn't get Thor horny, because his hole was close to the god's hammer, _ifyouknowwhatI'msaying._

Natasha smirked, squeezing Tony one last time before snatching up the remote.

"Why don't we redo this whole movie thing?"

Thor clapped his hands excitedly, already moving towards the elevators, "I shall go awake our fellow team members, aye?"

Natasha settled into her spot, face more peaceful than it'd been in a while. Clint got into his regular position, holding out his arms for Tony, who happily filled them.

"Looks like you and Nat had fun."

Tony blushed, burying his face down into Clint's hoodie. Natasha only turned so she could use both of her hands to rub at their heads, mumbling something about the similarities between boys and dogs.

To Clint's amusement, Tony only settled closer to the two of them. The archer stretched out, sighing tiredly.

_It's good to be home._

 


	5. Dirty, Dirty Old Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How he'd even been able to distract a trickster would still be a mystery, but he was practically born an engineer; he was made to prevent weak spots, to find weak spots.
> 
> And boy, did he ever.
> 
> AKA: Tony Snark.

5.

It'd taken a while for Tony and Steve to warm up to each other.

The better part of a year, at least.

They'd been (somewhat, _looking at you Tony Snark)_ cordial, but the friendship had only developed after the team had been kidnapped.

Yes, the _entire_ team.

_Fucking magic._

They'd been tossed into cells, cells of which even Thor couldn't get out of ( _cough, cough_ , Loki) and stripped of all weapons; Clint and Natasha, Bruce and Thor, Steve and Tony. The pairings were deliberate, and that was only because Loki liked conflict.

Of course, Tony was good at causing conflict, great at distracting people.

How he'd even been able to distract a trickster would still be a mystery, but he was practically born an engineer; he was made to prevent weak spots, to _find_ weak spots.

And boy, did he ever.

Loki had been so angry that he'd gone against whatever undoubtedly sick ideas he'd had for the six of them (he'd planned on using the super humans - Steve, Natasha, and Bruce - against their partners, of course, Tony had stopped that from happening) and had instead taken his anger out on who was undoubtedly the weaker link of the group (physically, at least). Tony had mouthed off like his life depended upon it - which was nearly the complete opposite, because in hindsight the other's lives had depended on it, his was nearly taken because of it - and had done well.

In the end, Loki was fuming, black hair frazzled, teeth bared. He'd tortured Tony, teased him endlessly, but it'd kept the focus on one person, rather than the entire team.

It gave SHIELD time to locate them; _damage control_ , Tony's calculative mind supplied, this way most of the team would be at the ready if Loki decided to scale out into the public realm.

It also gave Loki time to do _whatever_ he felt like to Tony, leaving Steve in the same cell as green magic broke and twisted and cut into him.

The captain had never felt so powerless.

"Tony, stop fucking talking, you _dumbass_!" Clint had yelled.

"Tony, let him have _me!_ I can't die!" Bruce reasoned.

"Tony, you're not trained for this!" Natasha had reminded.

"Anthony, my brother is _ruthless_ , he will not stop! You mustn't continue!" Thor warned.

Steve hadn't known _what_ to say; Tony's actions were shocking to him, then again, he hadn't really known the man, despite the time they'd been living together.

Clint had pressed his head against the bars in the adjacent cell, right above Steve's shoulder, his face sweaty, eyes looking as though he'd been the one to suffer through the pain Loki had inflicted upon Tony (which, he probably had, sympathetic pain happened to those who loved one another, felt for one another - Steve had felt guilt and a voice in his head that reminded him of all of the horrible things he'd said).

"Steve, you _have_ to shut him the fuck up."

Steve sputtered, watching as a wave of green energy took Tony's fingers and bent them backwards, one by one.

The brunette had kept his eyes closed, he'd barely flinched; Steve felt like puking.

Tony had been through a lot, he was strong, he was _something_ without the suit; Steve had only realized this then.

" _What_ do I do?" Steve sputtered out against the crunching of Tony's knuckles.

The genius shouted out again, the entire room flinching against his words.

" _Come_ _on_ , Lo Lo. Give me a little more, please. I'm a kinky fucker, _need_ to get off."

Tony looked up through his eyelashes, doe eyes showing no trace of pain. It made Steve sick, it looked as though Tony _was_ trained for this.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and Steve had had no clue - of where he was going, of what he was going to say.

Of what was going to happen if he didn't act.

Tony's right wrist was jerked painfully and the crack that echoed around their cells left a bad taste in Steve's mouth.

_Definitely going to puke._

"Hah." Tony gasped out, tapping his booted foot. "Your hat isn't the _only_ thing that's horny."

Bruce screamed from the other end of the room, looking green, even if the Hulk had been stifled by Loki's powers. "Steve, if you want to be seen as a captain to _all_ of us then you better make a move. _Now!"_

Bruce was right, he hadn't been a very good leader to Tony. Then again, a bitter voice in his head spoke, _Tony hasn't been a great team player, either._

But he was trying. He was saving his team, much like Steve would've done had he the talent.

So Steve used what he did have: his strength, his body. He wasn't as witty or as good at simply _pissing_ people off, but he could be comforting, he could talk _reason_.

Steve stood tall, rather than slumping and pacing as he'd been doing before, walking over to where Tony was bruised and broken on the ground in the corner. Loki watched on in interest.

"Is this not the same man who has _slandered_ Anthony in the past?"

Tony opened his mouth to retort, but Steve stopped him, a gentle hand on his mouth. The blonde whispered to Tony, meeting his eyes and seeing the pain in them.

Tony was good at hiding, that's what it was. He was good at being someone he wasn't. Right now he was a man who wasn't in pain.

Or that's what he was hoping everyone would see; and his façade was damn good, until you got close enough to see the details, the wrinkles around his eyes, the way his lips were pulled tight.

"Stark, you gotta stop."

Tony, ever so childish, licked his hand. Luckily, Steve wasn't so quick to pull away.

"Just, _stop_ talking so much. You know exactly what you're doing, I don't want you to get hurt for us any longer. You've taken enough of the brunt."

Tony rolled his eyes, and Steve ignored the tear that fell onto his own hand.

"That's an order."

Tony nodded, rolling his eyes again and looking away. Steve took it as a suitable reply.

Loki was laughing as Steve released Tony's lips, the captain sitting back against the wall, looking over Tony's injuries.

"Oh, Captain Rogers, you have never done your duty before in protecting battered, little Anthony, over there. Why _now_?" Loki paused, cocking his head. "Because he has done something that you cannot? He has done the impossible, such as survive a verbal spat with I, the silver tongue?"

Tony grinned brightly, shaking his head and holding up a limp finger, looking far too ready to retort. Steve cut him off.

"He made the sacrifice play when I couldn't, when I didn't even know how. Tony," Steve spared him a glance, nodding once; respect in his bright blue eyes. "He laid down on the wire and he let everyone else crawl over him."

" _And?"_ Loki twirled the scepter in his hand, smirk shark-like.

"And I was wrong." Steve was looking at Tony now, over his bloodied face and his crooked wrist. His fingers that were mangled and gnarled. Tony's leg was jiggling with anxiety, much like what Steve was feeling.

"Mhm, I see." Loki murmured, bending down to Tony's level and getting close to the bars.

"I believe that you still owe me that drink, although your SHIELD agents will be arriving soon."

Loki waived the scepter, Tony's fingers cracking back into place. His wrist was realigned, but the bruises and cuts along his body remained.

"I will be back, and when I am-"

"I'll have a cup with your name on it." Tony nodded, shooting the trickster a grin. "Thanks for having us over, good times with good friends and all that bullshit."

Loki only laughed, slow and deep, before waiving his scepter and disappearing.

Steve was left with Tony, who was breathing heavily, sweat covering his thin body.

"Here, lets get you up," Steve moved towards Tony, mind racing as he muttered absentmindedly. "Loki said something about SHIELD being near?"

Steve offered a hand out to Tony, practically holding him upwards. It was the first time they'd ever touched so intimately. Tony was stiff against him, but Steve was pretty sure that it was due to his injuries, rather than his discomfort.

Tony slapped his back weakly, grin wide.

"Real nice speech you gave."

Steve laughed a bit, desperate and hysterical.

"You're something else, Stark."

"'S Tony."

SHIELD agents barreled through the doors, Tony collecting himself as Steve dragged him towards the cell door.

Steve hugged him tight, and Tony didn't pull away.

One of the most unfortunate things that had happened to them had turned out to be the beginning of their friendship; it could only go up from here.

Clint took Tony's other side, shaking his head, amusement and worry on his face.

"That was a good one, the horny joke. Almost made me laugh. Would've too, if you hadn't _nearly died, you fucking idiot_. I'm going to beat your ass."

"No you're not." Tony murmured, laying his head on the archer's shoulder.

"I know." Clint said, maneuvering him out of the door. "But I should. We all should."

Steve shook his head, smiling a bit. "I think Star-, Tony's had enough. The only ass beating happening has to be in a sexual manner, and consensual."

Tony looked at the captain in shock, mouth agape.

"You _dirty old man-"_

Clint nodded in agreement, frantic look on his face, "He's been _listening_ to our jokes-"

Steve smirked, hefting Tony up and over a step.

"Now, I think SHIELD'll have a problem with team orgies, _but_ , there are loopholes, I mean, it's technically team bonding, that's what we called it back in my day-"

 


	6. Fuckers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything begins and ends with Clint and his touchy-feely ways. 
> 
> Even this fic. 
> 
> Also, Tony hates cake. And yes, Clint, cupcakes are in the cake family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beep boop beep boop.
> 
> This is the last chapter. I'm so happy with all of the support for this baby fic! As promised, it ends on a happy note. Thanks again for everything. Check out my other stories and subscribe so you won't miss out on the next one. Until next time! Have a fabulous day.

6.

Tony was turning forty-five.

He was getting _old_ , too old for birthday cakes. Tony had told the team that, too, he'd specifically requested no surprises. No cakes - _never cake_ , he hated cake, there were far too many drunken Monday mornings - _cough, Rhodey's twenty first_ \- where he'd puked up the substance. No gifts. _Nothing_. It'd be a normal Sunday.

At least, it was supposed to be. Until he'd gone into the communal kitchen that morning, it had been.

" _Shit_ , Jarvis, you were supposed to warn us when Tony came down-"

"Sir has advised against surprises and has warned me to alert him of such. Therefore your request was overridden, I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Barton."

Tony took one step into the kitchen, a hesitant leap of faith that the team hadn't done anything he'd asked them not to; he'd literally _made a list_.

The Avengers were shoved into the kitchen, wearing aprons and what appeared to be dozens of pounds of baking materials. Clint looked as though he was leading the pack, a bag of icing in his palm. Bruce and Natasha were sitting on stools, sprinkles pinched between their fingers. Steve was opening the oven, pulling out more and more pans of whatever they'd made. Thor was hovering over what Tony could now confidently identify as cupcakes, suspicious crumbs on his fingers and around his mouth as he pulled the tiny creations from their baking pits.

Cupcakes. He hadn't even _thought_ to put cupcakes on the list.

"You guys look like you _swam_ in cake batter-"

" _Cupcakes_ , Tony. You didn't tell us not to make cupcakes, so we did."

"Clint, you do realize that cupcakes are in fact, baby cakes in cups?"

The archer shrugged petulantly, licking his finger, red icing coating his teeth.

Tony face palmed.

"Hey, no, don't be _sad_. What have baby cakes ever done to you?"

"Yes, Anthony, we have only done this to make you happy! For it is the day of your birth! I am honored to congratulate you."

Bruce grinned devilishly, "Do you want to hug it out?"

They started migrating near, coming from their stations, covered in flour and icing and paper cups and Iron Man shaped sprinkles.

"Do _not_ touch me-"

"But Tony, it's your birthday. We're practically family." Steve looked hurt, even though Tony knew that he had a major part to play; he was the best baker, and he wasn't _nearly_ as innocent as he looked (experience had taught them all that, _back in my day_ my ass), _the fucker_.

"You're _practically_ uncooked cupcakes."

Natasha's hair had turned white, and she had a dollop of purple icing on her nose, but it didn't stop her from looking intimidating (so much so that if she'd asked him to eat a cupcake, he would've cut a hole into his abdomen and placed it into his stomach right then and there - gods, he _hated_ cake). "Happy Birthday Tony."

"No, _no_. You need to get _back_. I will- I'll, I'll do _something_ -"

How were you supposed to threaten a team of superheroes?

Clint came near, looking like a cannibal with crimson teeth. He was covered in a plethora of icing, looking as though multiple birds had eaten multiple berries and had promptly shit on him.

"Nopity, nope, _nope_." Tony dodged every attempt at contact, until he'd somehow been corralled to the center of the kitchen, crouching on the island in the center, his team surrounding him.

"Aw, com'ere you cutie." Clint murmured, pulling him in close. Tony fought against it, but then there were five pairs of arms around him, and he was pulled into an embrace like no other.

Tony came out of the situation unscathed, save for the blots of icing on his face and the never ending flour dusted upon him.

"We're a family of _uncooked fucking baby cakes_ , Clint, are you happy?" Tony looked around, far too angry for someone so adorable. "Are you all happy?"

There was an amused shout, snorts of laughter following:

"Somebody's a little _raw_."

Tony shook his head, clicking his tongue as he left the room, a catapulted sprinkle was aimed with accuracy (Natasha) at his back before he managed to get through the threshold.

In hindsight, it had all started and ended with Clint, who had no personal boundaries whatsoever (Tony was positive they'd be cuddling on the couch together after _everyone_ had showered), and had made it his personal goal to make sure nobody else did either.

_Fuckers._

 

_**FIN** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to all of you!

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave me love! Prompts are great too, I love new ideas.


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